


Bella Luna

by ZiggyzEyepatch



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Good Omens Rom Com Event, Ineffable infidelity, Ineffable side hoe (Good Omens), Injury, Lost Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23661799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZiggyzEyepatch/pseuds/ZiggyzEyepatch
Summary: Years after his husband's death, Aziraphale's on the cusp of settling into the safe, comfortable life he's always sought for himself with his current fiancé, Newton Pulsifer.However, while tracking down his fiancé's estranged brother, he finds out love has the most inconvenient timing.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Newton Pulsifer, Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 23
Collections: Good Omens Rom Com Event





	Bella Luna

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to @the_moonmoth whom is one of the most talented betas to ever beta. Thank you to @peepingnee for the constant support and beta-ing and their cheerleading and being an all around awesome human being.

_“There is a secret medicine given only to those who hurt so hard they can't hope._

__

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_The hopers would feel slighted if they knew._

_You were born with potential._

_You were born with goodness and trust. You were born with ideals and dreams. You were born with greatness._

_You were born with wings._

_You are not meant for crawling, so don't._

__

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_You have wings._

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_Learn to use them and fly.”_

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_― Rumi_

The Sussex sun is setting, casting a familiar purple, red-orange haze on the horizon. Just like Aziraphale remembers last time he was at this particular angler. 

They’d come here together on the weekends. Mostly to spoon - and of course, on that one memorable occasion - fork.

Aziraphale gets out of the car he’s parked on the side of the road with a single red rose in his hand. There’s an ache in his chest when those memories arise. And suddenly his heart, what remains of it, is on the precipice of bleeding out on the pavement. But this is the last time he’ll come here. He promises. 

With the rose in hand, looking both ways, placing one foot in front of the other, Aziraphale carefully makes his way to the middle of the road. He stops, every safety instinct screaming at him. He brings the rose gently to his lips and bends to lay it on the ground. He stares at the lifeless beauty of the flower laying on the road. Staring a bit longer than sense should allow.

He straightens himself out, and looking both ways does a quick little jog back to the car on the side of the road. 

There are children with fishing rods, adoring young couples holding hands, and a setting sun. It’s quite beautiful. It’s lovely to know it has remained this way. It would be lovely to think it will always remain so. 

He climbs back into the car and starts the engine. One more look in the rear view, last time, he promises. 

There’s a lorry headed down the road. _"Bloody lorries. Shouldn't be allowed" _Leslie would say, like some huffy octogenarian, Aziraphale remembers fondly. Too old for his age. Too young for his time.__

____

____

It’s a lovely rose. It’d be lovely to think it would remain so. A deep breath. A goodbye. Aziraphale looks forward and drives away.

_________________________________________________________

“Amazing. My Ronald looks better dead than he ever did alive.” Not exactly the words Aziraphale would have chosen at a funeral service for one’s husband, but it’s his policy to never judge those in bereavement. His other policy is ensuring there’s always hot tea and coffee at the services. And currently, that’s what he’s seeing to at Ronald Hastings’ funeral. Small comforts. “That Gabriel is a miracle worker.”

Right on cue, Gabriel theatrically unveils himself from behind the double door entrance of the funeral home offices. “Well, here at Pearly Gates, miracles are what we do.” 

Aziraphale often wonders what level of skill is required to smile and be able to show all of one’s teeth.

As the mourners fan themselves around Gabriel, Aziraphale makes his way through the doors of the offices to his desk. The ledger lays open and he still needs to do this month’s finances. Gabriel often says life would be easier if only he were capable of learning to use a computer. 

Aziraphale's sure he didn’t mean it to sound as cruel as it had come out, but then again he’ll be the first to admit he’s not very good with any technology more complicated than a kettle. 

That’s probably why he and Newton get on as well as they do. Newton is, God love him, dreadful with anything remotely technical. And Aziraphale’s technical needs are sufficiently limited.

Still, the books need to be done, and there’ll be a service to tidy up afterward. He has a busy day ahead of him and not much time if he wants to make his dinner reservations. And it’s those lovely thoughts that seem to summon Gabriel.

Gabriel walks in and quietly slides the doors closed behind him before turning to Aziraphale. He claps and rubs his hands together. “Another success I’d say.” He walks over to the mirror and adjusts his Armani tie. “Yes, they will be talking about this one for a while.” 

Satisfied with whatever adjustment he’s made he turns to Aziraphale, who’s not so keen on calling any funeral a success. “Yes, um, jolly good.” 

Before Gabriel can continue his self-congratulatory rant, the fax machine goes off in his office. Thankful for the distraction, Aziraphale turns his attention back to the ledger, determined to finish early to make his dinner date.

“And another one bites the dust.” Gabriel shoves an obituary for old Mrs. Young in front of him. Aziraphale frowns at the callousness of the news of Mrs. Young’s passing, but this will most assuredly make him late tonight as he’ll be in charge of editing and posting the notice. The latter thought fills him with guilt. “Think you can have this done by tomorrow?”

Aziraphale has dinner reservations. Mrs. Young was 102. Roughly the same amount of time it’s going to take to secure a table again if he fails to show up tonight. “Perhaps I could speak with the Youngs once I’ve had a go-over. Make sure they’re happy I’ve crossed all the t’s and dotted the i’s - as it were?” Not entirely dishonest. Some might even consider it a good deed on Aziraphale’s part to visit with a family that’s just lost a loved one. 

(And some might very much consider he’s been spending too much time around Gabriel.)

Self-congratulatory pats on the back aside, he thinks about Newton. Tonight was to be an evening with him and cancelling always brings an ache to Aziraphale's chest. The stakes with dating these days seem to be so high. Every nuance, layered with meaning. A new language had developed and there was a learning curve, having been out of "the game" for some time. He didn't want his intentions to get lost in translation. And the thought of disappointing Newton, who’s life is a constant series of disappointments, fills him with guilt.

“Well, it just means more work for you. If you don’t mind doing it, then by all means, Aziraphale.” Gabriel looks at his clearly expensive watch in a clearly dramatic fashion. This means he has somewhere very important to be. “Well I have to be off. You good to close up shop?” Gabriel doesn’t wait for Aziraphale’s answer before walking towards the door. “Great. Don’t work too hard.”

Aziraphale hears the condescending grin in his voice. Ronald Hastings was still upstairs. There was little doubt with whom he would choose to spend the rest of his work day.

**Author's Note:**

> Will be updating weekly. Will stick to Tuesdays for now. Thank you!
> 
> My tumblr has a cozy couch for visitors.  
> @ziggyz-eyepatch


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